Last summer I thought long and hard about starting a blog. I really wanted to. But I have a major confession I must make. The whole concept did not start as an effort to type out my daily rants and ravings over the awesomeness that is my children or the ridiculousness that is GleN Beck. No, my friends, I had one reason and one reason only why I wanted to start posting stuff online on a regular basis: I wanted to expose the clothing disaster that is my husband.

I have no style. For real. When I was a kid, I would throw on whatever pants and whatever shirt were closest to my reach, and present myself to my mother and say, “do I match?” Mom would give it a glance, the kind where she lifts up one eyebrow, and say, “You blend.” Now, I imagine what was going through her mind was, “For the love of God child, how the hell old are you that you cannot figure out that some colors go together and some do NOT? It’s not that hard. Red and Orange and Charcoal are not a good mix unless by some cruel chance they are your school colors and even then you look like a complete dumbass just with a jersey on. I have five kids. FIVE kids! I don’t have time for this shit. I’m not digging through your closet to find the actual pair of pants that match that monstrosity of a shirt and JESUS WOULD YOU BRUSH YOUR HAIR God I cannot wait until you are a little older so I can kick you into the kitchen and make “You blend” me a drink!” Seems like a reasonable train of thought.

Anyhow, I tell that story just to illustrate the fact that I am in no position to be critical of someone else’s wardrobe. But seriously, my husband would be better dressed if we let a blind monkey pick out his clothes.

*note – This only applies to his causal wardrobe. When the man goes to work, he morphs into a regular human being who can pair a nice shirt, a classy tie and a clean pair of pants together. But it’s clearly only a skill he has a grip on Monday through Friday, 8 a.m. until 6 p.m.

So when I wanted to blog, I was seriously planning on calling it, “Does My Husband Match.” I checked, and at least at that time, doesmyhusbandmatch.com was available! But, after consideration, and realizing I have MORE to say than to rant about Jim’s outfit choice, I realized that the topic might get tiresome for both readers and author.

But alas, it cannot be ignored.

Here is how March Madness is being watched tonight:

Trust me, he’s not lounging. If we were to suddenly decide to go out and grab some dinner and drinks, this is what he would wear. Brown comfy pants and all.

The Blackhawks jersey is my favorite part. In his defense, he said he was cold, and in hockey, a jersey is actually called a sweater. I only managed this snapshot. I unfortunately didn’t catch it when he put on his Notre Dame Snuggie.